With a sudden flare it burst into renewed flame, lighting up the hut's
interior as though by magic.

The flame disclosed to Jane Clayton's horrified gaze that the baby was
quite dead. How long it had been so she could not guess.

A choking lump rose to her throat, her head drooped in silent misery
upon the little bundle that she had caught suddenly to her breast.

For a moment the silence of the hut was unbroken. Then the native
woman broke into a hideous wail.

A man coughed close before Jane Clayton and spoke her name.

With a start she raised her eyes to look into the sardonic countenance
of Nikolas Rokoff.

Chapter 13

Escape

For a moment Rokoff stood sneering down upon Jane Clayton, then his
eyes fell to the little bundle in her lap. Jane had drawn one corner
of the blanket over the child's face, so that to one who did not know
the truth it seemed but to be sleeping.

"You have gone to a great deal of unnecessary trouble," said Rokoff,
"to bring the child to this village. If you had attended to your own
affairs I should have brought it here myself.

"You would have been spared the dangers and fatigue of the journey.
But I suppose I must thank you for relieving me of the inconvenience of
having to care for a young infant on the march.

"This is the village to which the child was destined from the first.
M'ganwazam will rear him carefully, making a good cannibal of him, and
if you ever chance to return to civilization it will doubtless afford
you much food for thought as you compare the luxuries and comforts of
your life with the details of the life your son is living in the
village of the Waganwazam.

"Again I thank you for bringing him here for me, and now I must ask you
to surrender him to me, that I may turn him over to his foster
parents." As he concluded Rokoff held out his hands for the child, a
nasty grin of vindictiveness upon his lips.

To his surprise Jane Clayton rose and, without a word of protest, laid
the little bundle in his arms.

"Here is the child," she said. "Thank God he is beyond your power to
harm."

Grasping the import of her words, Rokoff snatched the blanket from the
child's face to seek confirmation of his fears. Jane Clayton watched
his expression closely.

She had been puzzled for days for an answer to the question of Rokoff's
knowledge of the child's identity. If she had been in doubt before the
last shred of that doubt was wiped away as she witne